


your hands can heal (I still choose you)

by leopoldjamesfitz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, but also serious conversation about fitz vs the doctor, ft. jemma simmons' unwavering faith in her husband, this is soft dumb fluff and I hold no one but myself accountable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 05:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13381227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopoldjamesfitz/pseuds/leopoldjamesfitz
Summary: But coming back, going back to as though everything was fine, it was difficult. More difficult than he’d allowed anyone other than Jemma to catch onto.It hadn’t taken her long to realize that he’d been allowing interns to fix the ICERs when they broke, or that he’d stopped performing maintenance on the zephyr and instead begun calling someone else in.It hadn’t taken her long to realize he hadn’t engineered anything other than their wedding rings since well before the Framework mishap.That foolish man should know by now there was very little he could hide from her.





	your hands can heal (I still choose you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intothenowhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothenowhere/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> adrienne and tegan lowkey talked me into writing FS in a bath tub fluff. But because I am me, this is more hurt/comfort than anything else. Set in the near future.

The weight of the day inevitably always ended up being carried home on his shoulders. No matter how many times he tried to avoid it, or even leave it at the work place, he found himself fretting over every thing in the short drive it takes to bring him from the Playground to the small flat the two had moved into when the dust had settled.

It had been harder going back when they were allowed. Both because of what had happened in the Framework, still leaving scars on psyche, and what had happened afterward. Between the prison cells and the separation and the reminder of what six months of being alone in solitary had done to him, stepping back into the role as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent seemed, surprisingly, like the last thing he’d ever want to do.

Before everything, he’d perhaps wager that he enjoyed his job, even if time to time it put him through the emotional wringer. But coming back, going back to as though everything was fine, it was difficult. More difficult than he’d allowed anyone other than Jemma to catch onto.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize that he’d been allowing interns to fix the ICERs when they broke, or that he’d stopped performing maintenance on the zephyr and instead begun calling someone else in.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize he hadn’t engineered anything other than their wedding rings since well before the Framework mishap.

That foolish man should know by now there was very little he could hide from her.

He’d come home later than she had that day, having stayed late at the lab – doing God knows what. Even from her perch down the hall, she could hear the shuffling as he came in through the door, dropping his keys in the bowl beside the doorway before securing the security system and stopping.

She’d thought about sending him a message before she’d disappeared into the large ensuite bathroom, knowing that despite their safety, the anxieties that ensued when they couldn’t find the other was almost always worse for wear. In the end, a simple note had been left on the breakfast nook that he knew she adored and she’d slunk down the hallway, leaving nothing but her robe abandoned just within the door as a sign of her path.

Their jobs had never been easy, but the last few years even less; between the constant tug and pull of their own feelings and losing one another at each turnpike, being without one another just wasn’t an option anymore, and that made it even more stressful when the other was not within reach.

Sinking into the bubbles a little more, she dragged her tongue along her lower lip, listening for the slightest creak of their flooring. It was always the way she knew he was close, and the immediate comfort that the sound of him padding down the hallway surprised her.

Five years ago, she’d would have never thought that her life would be like this; not just because she was curled in the tub, waiting on her husband, or because that husband was Fitz. Rather, because she’d never allowed herself the thought that she could find happiness, even in the most broken of ways in parts, and be content in the results.

Sixteen year old Jemma would have never believed, never even given life to the thought that she could be this unexplainably happy, even after everything they’d gone through. She wouldn’t have even been able to imagine that she could be _this_ happy because of Fitz.

Which, of course, made it all the worse that he was, perhaps in his own jaded way, still suffering from his own repercussions from the Framework. There had been no actual repercussions, save for the months he’d spent in prison, and even less when it had all been explained, but she knew that he was still struggling with the person he had been versus the person he was, and that in itself was something she wished every night she could find a way to help him with.

Fitz appeared in the doorway just as that thought went through her mind, holding her robe with a quirked eyebrow that immediately disappeared once his eyes fell on her.

“Oh,” he greeted after a moment, a low, but relieved chuckle slipping through his lips. “There you are.”

He stepped further into the bathroom, laying the robe on top of the towels she’d laid out as she tilted her head, turning toward him. Lifting her arm out of the warmth of the bath, she extended her hand, gesturing wildly. “Here I am,” she replied with a gentle smirk, grinning when that earned her a soft chuckle.

She shifted without warning, the movement a little too fast and she had to hover, her blood pressure already a little higher because of the temperature of the bath and the result making her feel a little dizzy.

He looked upon her with worry laced on his features, but she didn’t allow him a moment to worry anymore, lifting her other hand from beneath the water and reaching out, grabbing his. “Come in,” she murmured, batting her eyelashes in an uncharacteristic way that had him snorting. “Please?”

Fitz softened a little, looking toward the open door of their bathroom before turning back toward her, mouth already open, as though looking for an excuse.

It wasn’t even that he’d stopped himself from touching her, from loving her, since they’d returned, because he hadn’t. His mind was an enigma and the only thing she wished for was one moment of clarity, one that would help her understand what he was going through so they could work it out. Together.

Jemma was done playing the waiting game and she sat up slowly, levelling him with a glare that would have normally sent him running for the hills. “Leopold James Fitz – whatever is on your mind can _wait._ Climb in this bath or so help me, I’ll drag you in here clothes and all.”

Fitz’s eyes widened, though more out of curiosity than of fear, and he chuckled as his hands moved to the front of his button up, inevitably removing his hand from her grasp, and he began undressing. Piece by piece until it all sat in a semi-neat pile beside her towel pile.

Sliding in behind her, his hands immediately went for her waist, pulling her back against his chest while his lips fell against her temple, the touch sending an immediate warmth spreading through her. She sighed, nuzzling into his neck as her hands knitted through his.

Fitz brushed a kiss to her shoulder as she settled, squeezing his arms around her waist a little tighter. His arms were always the place she’d felt safest, for no particular reason, but the sense of home that they brought was always a favorite part of Fitz for her. Second only to his kind heart and natural warmth.

“Now,” she declared after a moment, forcing her eyes open despite the warmth of the water and the security his arms provided lulling her some. “Are you going to talk to me about what’s wrong?”

Immediately, he stiffened, and if it hadn’t been for her weight grounding him, a part of her thought that he might’ve tried to run, or perhaps ignore the question altogether. The budding elephant in the room would have preferred that. He twisted a little until he met her gaze, a strained smile on his face as he parted his lips.

“If you’re about to tell me that nothing is, you’d be wise to save your breath,” she cut him off, sighing as he dipped his head a little. Shifting in his arms, she turned until her back hit the side of the tub, her knees protesting the cramped movement, and her fingers lifted, cradling his cheek. “I know you, Fitz,” she murmured gingerly, tilting his head until he met her gaze. “I want to help you.”

His tongue darted out, dampening his lower lip as he nodded, no questioning in his forward stare, for which she was thankful for. He tore his gaze temporarily away from her, reaching for the flannel she’d laid on top of the towels before dunking it under the water.

She made a noise of protest when he began to drag it along her shoulder, thinking that it was his intention to avoid the topic altogether. They weren’t back to that point, not the awkward days of when she had first returned after helplessly leaving in the wake of his confession, and they wouldn’t be. “Shh,” he whispered, dropping a kiss to the center of her forehead. “I’ll take care of you and you can take care of me.”

She hummed her agreement, settling against his chest once more as he dipped the flannel back underneath the water and then along her other shoulder. “Its been hard,” he admitted as he repeated the process, dragging it up and along her collarbone, dipping down to wash along her breasts. He focused carefully on a bruise that lies against her ribcage, one that she thinks might have still been there from the week before when she had accidentally fell into the doorway as he’d carried her from their kitchen to their bedroom. “Fighting the darkness. Trying to find how much of that encompasses who I am.”

The darkness, he’d lamented, or the shadow, was the Doctor. The man he had been in the Framework. The one he worried he still was, despite her assurances. Jemma clenched her jaw as she rubbed the pad of her thumb along the apple of his cheek and sighed as he dipped the flannel back down before nudging her forward and running it down the length of her back.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted quietly, taking his time in washing her like this, and she pretended to not know that it was because he needed a moment away from the determination that was naturally embedded into her eyes. “I’m afraid that I won’t know where the cutting off point is, or I won’t be able to stop myself before something goes wrong…” His breathing hitched as the hand holding the flannel, running along the middle of her back now, trembled. “I’m afraid of who I might hurt.”

His hand did not stop trembling as it finishes, dipping back underneath the water and she wasted no time turning back, grabbing his trembling palm between her hands and brushing a kiss along his palm. The flannel disappeared in the water beneath them, but neither leapt for it. He dipped closer again, dropping a gentle touch of his lips along her temple again.

How this man could think he was only possible of monstrosities when he laced each movement with such gentleness, she’d never understand.

Shifting, she moved to straddle his lap, facing him more directly. Under his gaze, she nearly faltered, the sound of her own breathing as it splintered under the ferocity of his gaze. She gripped his hands tighter, kissing each individual digit as she worked to calm herself once more.

“The Doctor isn’t a cancer,” she told him finally, as soon as he relaxed under her touch. She gripped his hand between hers, a conviction in her gaze that was unwavering and perhaps a bit overwhelming. “You can’t cut him out and hope that you’ll heal around its absence.”

Fitz pulled away from her, meeting her gaze as she sighed, lifting one hand up to frame his cheek while the other still clung tightly to his. He clung back just as tightly. “He was always there, he was always a part of you, and he was used for bad things.” She continued, her heart clenching around the look that painted his gentle features.

It was a mixture of pain and shame, and she thought he might’ve been overthinking the events in the Framework, the moments that he regretted the most. The feel of the gun in his palms as he held it to her forehead, the most, and she shook her head nearly violently. The water chilled around them, but she barely took notice.

“He was made into a monster. But you are not a monster, and that part of you isn’t evil or bad for existing.” She whispered gently, tracing the apex of his cheek as her breathing began to fracture and splinter. “You can use it for good, you _have_ used it for good, but coming to peace with that is your own journey.”

Fitz’s lower lip wobbled at that, but he nodded, swallowing hard. Jemma knew, of course, she’d be a fool to think that it would be easy, that having another life forced upon you, a life that took and adjusted until it molded him into the person he’d been, would be a simple thing to just forget. Fitz had been abused, both by AIDA’s steady hand and his father’s, and she’d known long before this event that the real scars Alistair had left behind still were not healed, not to mention the new ones that had come up in the aftermath.

“I can and will support you every step of the way, but it is your responsibility to find peace with who the Doctor was and realize that part of you was just misconstrued, framed to work for AIDA’s… mind prison.” She continued after a moment, her words softer but the conviction behind them all the same. She had never had such unyielding faith in anyone in her life, not to the same degree that she held it for Fitz. She knew he was not the person he had been painted to be, she knew the good that was in his heart, and how immensely he loved and cared for the people he surrounded himself with. “You are still the most kind hearted, loyal, honest man I know, Fitz. The Doctor isn’t you are.”

His free hand slid up her side, stopping to rest along the small of her back and he nudged her forward gently until their foreheads brushed. Jemma leaned forward, dropping his other hand in order to cup both sides of his face and hold him there, while his hands met her waist, sliding along her back to join together and pull her close.

“You are not a monster, Fitz.” She whispered gently, pulling away just enough to catch his gaze. “You are a gentle, kind man whom I love with every single piece of me.”

His breathing hitched once more, the sound breaking whatever dam had been forming in her and she felt the hot stream of a tear as it trickled down her cheek. He leaned forward, brushing a kiss along the stained cheek.

“And I love you, just the same.” He whispered into the space between them, brushing another kiss along her forehead and then her temple as he straightened up, cradling her against his chest. “What I ever did to deserve something as… precious as you, I’ll never understand.”

She smiled against his neck, brushing a kiss against his pulse point as she allowed her eyes to slide shut. “You were you,” she whispered, tracing her fingertips along his chest as she rested her palm against his heart. “I fell in love with your heart, Fitz, and your brain, and your words and you; and I will protect and love that for the rest of my days.”

Fitz twined their fingers together, bringing her hand to his lips as he kissed the cool of her wedding ring, something that she rarely wore in the work place outside of on a chain she wore around her neck and then her forehead, his lips resting lazily against her skin.

“Thank you, Jemma.” He whispered softly, slowly after a long moment of silence. “For believing in me. Especially when no one else did.”

Jemma twisted, opening her eyes just a sliver as she smiled upwards, leaning up enough that he took the hint and brushed their lips together. He pulled back too quickly and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop a whimper from surfacing.

“Oh, Fitz,” she murmured, kissing the area of his heart. “Always.”

 


End file.
